


Head in the Sand

by JerseyGirl



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, POV Danny "Danno" Williams, Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl/pseuds/JerseyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny promised himself after his marriage to Rachel ended that he would never again bury his head in the sand where his personal life was concerned. But now there’s Steve, and it’s a whole lot easier to pretend what he feels happening isn’t…promise or no.</p><p>Multiple chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Past to the Locker Room

**Author's Note:**

> Contains pre-canon, references to canon from Season 1 and veers off from canon completely after Season 1, Episode 20, “Ma Ke Kahakai,” thus becoming AU. Multiple chapters.

Danny knew there’d been many times in his life when he should’ve seen things coming. First and foremost, all the times Jake Salisman’s fist had connected with his jaw from Grades Four through Six, until Danny had had enough, and taken up boxing down at Sal’s Gym so he could kick the living shit out of the kid who was nearly a foot taller than him by the beginning of Seventh Grade. 

It’d been worth the one-month suspension. 

He should also have seen the spectacular disaster that was his relationship with Toni Lipinski in high school coming from a mile off. In the end, the fact that she’d slept with half the high school baseball team by the time they reached their Junior year in high school, pretty well sealed the deal on it becoming anything serious. 

Well, _more_ serious. Because Danny had been all-in on that one. Danny was _always_ all-in. He was just that kind of a guy. 

He should also have seen it coming two weeks before graduation when his four buddies Alan, Scotty, Scoop and Jax wanted to go to a party at a house that was well-known to stock plenty of pot for any occasion. The fact that he himself hadn’t smoked any…being Designated Driver and all…hadn’t kept him from spending a night in the clink courtesy of the Newark PD. 

And his dad took about three years to totally forgive him for dragging his well-known name through the mud. 

After Toni, Danny had kept pretty much to himself in the sex and love departments. At one point, realizing he was admiring the ass of his baseball team’s starting catcher, he sort of allowed the small epiphany that he might maybe be into guys, too, absorb into his psyche, but he never felt the need to act on it. He always figured that was just because he’d never met a guy he was willing to put himself out there like that for. And he didn’t have a goddamn clue how you had a non-platonic relationship with another guy, anyway. Hell, he had yet to master women, let alone men. 

Then came the Police Academy and his years as a rookie taking shit from all the long-timers and – for the first time – getting respect from both people he knew and perfect strangers simply because he wore a uniform, a badge and a gun. 

And carried a big damn stick. 

Ah, yes, then there was Rachel. Danny in a squad car minding his own business and boom, Rachel happened in the form of their, “Oh, I’m so, so _sorry_ , Officer” meeting in which Danny found himself stupidly smitten by big, brown eyes and a British accent that drove him crazy. It was like, every time Rachel opened her mouth, his cock sat up and took notice. 

Which explained the ridiculous amount of sex he had over the next year-and-a-half. 

So he’d proposed. And she’d accepted. They were married, he kicked ass on a case he’d stumbled onto from being the first man on-scene of a grisly murder and wham, there he was making Detective so young it was like being a rookie beat cop all over again. The detectives that were a little long in the tooth busted his balls like you wouldn’t believe, but Danny took it all in stride. Because no matter how much shit he got for being the ‘Baby-Faced Detective’ as he came to be known, his solve rate spoke for itself. 

He was proud of the work he did. He was proud of his beautiful wife. He was _really_ proud the day they bought their first house, a small brick two-story on Hamilton Street in Harrison. And he’d planned to give Rachel even more than that; so _much_ more. 

But then the honeymoon was over and reality set in. The reality that even though a homicide detective makes more dough than a beat cop, it didn’t amount to a whole helluva lot when you had a mortgage, two car payments, all the insurance that goes with both and Rachel’s student loans. Not to mention the everyday shit like utilities, groceries. 

But in spite of it being lean times, they were happy. Even happier when Rachel found out she was pregnant. But during the three months of maternity leave after Grace was born, there’d been signs. Signs Danny _had_ seen, but had chosen to ignore. Had chosen to hide from. Had chosen not to deal with. 

They struggled through that, Danny more engrossed in his new daughter than in his wife, and he should’ve seen what _that_ would do, too. Maybe would’ve paid closer attention to the fact that thanks to the amount of time she took care of Grace for them, Jeannie their babysitter managed to buy a car. 

Because she babysat Grace a _lot_. 

Danny’s schedule was never a set thing. It was about the cases, not the standard nine-to-five. And Rachel, well, she was supposed to have been working a regular workday at the financial firm she’d gotten on at with her accounting degree. And she did. Only thing was, after coming home and spending an hour or two with Grace, if Danny was working, Rachel was gone. 

She’d had at least two affairs that he’d gotten her to admit to, and he suspected Stan had probably been a third. 

But with Danny hardly being home, money being tight and him just being too exhausted all the time to pay the kind of attention to his wife that he should’ve, it fell apart like string of dominos, going too fast and too hard to be able to avoid the inevitable. 

When Grace was seven, Rachel took her and left. 

The divorce took ten months of nasty fighting to get to the end of. Grace was eight by the time it was finalized, and Rachel almost immediately married Stan. 

Two months later, a hand-delivered passel of papers told Danny Rachel was taking his baby…the only thing he had left to show for a marriage and one-time love that were no more…away. 

And really, he should’ve seen it all coming. 

But he’d buried his head in the sand. 

And so in all the hours, days and weeks after the divorce where Matt was alternately propping him up emotionally or holding him steady over the toilet after twelve-too-many drinks to drown his sorrows, Danny made himself a promise: he’d never bury his head in the sand about things in his personal life again, no matter _how_ busy he got with a case. 

Except, see, that promise had become impossible to keep. And it was all thanks to that goddamn six-foot-tall God’s gift to Planet Earth he’d been forced into a partnership with. 

Danny was self-aware enough to know what that little heart palpitation had been in Steve McGarrett’s back yard that doubled as a beach, when he’d seen him with his shirt off. But since he’d never actually followed through on guy-related palpitations before, he shrugged it off. 

And so with the next time. 

And the next. 

And the next. 

Then one day found them alone in the locker room-slash-shower room at the palace, not three months into Five-0’s existence, and for the first time, Danny had finished up the paperwork for the case which ignominiously introduced his ex-wife to his partner early…so he figured a go at the gym to work off the only-just-now realization that Rachel had hit his car on _purpose_ and get his head back on his shoulders was in order. 

He hadn’t counted on the fact that Steve had spent the last hour in the gym doing whatever he did to keep his body looking like… _that_ … _oh, holy shit, the man’s coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped so loosely around his waist it’s going to fall any_ …and so it had. Well, almost. 

Danny had just finished changing into shorts and a muscle shirt. He slammed his locker door shut and was putting the padlock on it when around the corner came Tall, Dark and Dripping Wet. 

And fucking Hotter than his old man’s barbecue grill on the 4th of July. 

“Hey,” was Steve’s greeting. 

Danny’s throat had gone dry. Palpitations had become all-out arrhythmia to the point where he was almost gasping like he’d already run five miles on the treadmill. “Hey,” he managed to get out, then turned away quickly. He’d intended to escape to the gym but no, of course Mr. Perfect wouldn’t let him. 

“Rachel’s nice,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, until you’ve been through marriage, the birth of a child and divorce with her,” Danny quipped, keeping his back turned. 

“Something the matter?” 

Danny whirled on him. “Oh, no, of course not, other than the fact that I was never intending for my work life and my personal life to mix like it suddenly did today!” And then, oh, crap, what had he just said? 

Because Steve was making a face. He always made a face. Or maybe two at once sometimes, somehow. Danny could never be sure how a guy became and stayed a Navy SEAL with such an expressive face, anyway. 

“It wasn’t so bad, was it? Everybody got along. Rachel’s actually pretty smart.” 

Which, you know, Danny took the wrong way on purpose to try and deflect. “You mean, you thought she was an idiot for ever having married me?” 

And another face Danny hadn’t ever seen before, dammit, and Steve said, “No. I thought she was an idiot for _leaving_ you.” 

As Steve turned to go back to wherever his own locker was, his towel did indeed slip precariously low, and there was the top of his ass crack which he didn’t even bother to try and re-cover as he moved slowly away. 

“Oh,” was all Danny said, and then spent the next two hours killing himself in the gym trying to figure out what the fuck had just been said. 

_You’re overthinking it_ , Danny finally convinced himself as, dripping with sweat and hitting the locker room’s shower at nine-thirty at night, he stood there lathering up his body. 

Only thing was, his cock didn’t seem to care if he was overthinking anything at all. In order to ensure he could actually get his pants back on once he’d dried off, Danny had to take care of the throbbing erection that thinking about Steve _in nothing but a towel_ had brought about, right there in a place where he could easily be caught doing so. 

After that, Danny vowed to be more on-guard around McGarrett. To be careful what he said. To _not_ think about Steve dripping wet and a towel falling off his hips. To _not_ think about what might’ve happened if, instead of fleeing to the gym, he’d stalked up to Steve, ripped that towel off him and taken him right there in the locker room. 

Somehow, though, Danny’s subconscious wasn’t taking that vow of his very seriously. Oh, Christ. He should’ve fucking seen this coming from a mile away. But he couldn’t act on it, he told himself, for a whole grocery list of reasons. 

And so back into the sand went his head. 


	2. Time After Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It kept happening. And it wasn't all one-sided.

The thing about sticking your head in the sand for long periods of time, though, was the fact that it seemed to seep into your brain, thereby rendering you incapable of thinking properly when confronted with situations you should, as an adult male, know perfectly well how to handle. 

So when Chin was collared by Victor Hesse – literally – with a bomb round his neck, and Steve and Kono stole money to take to a man who just fucking _burned_ it, well…the aftermath found Chin resting at the hospital for observation with Kono glued to his side, and Steve with a guilt trip that no camel could’ve carried across any length of desert, firmly ensconced on his shoulders. 

And what was a partner to do, right? What was a partner to do when he showed up at a quiet beachfront house at ten-thirty at night to find his BAMF partner sitting on his couch like he was shellshocked? A partner who didn’t say a friggin’ word when you just waltzed in like you owned the place? 

Danny set the six-pack of Longboards down on the coffee table, pulled two out, twisted their caps off. He handed one to McGarrett with the order to “Drink,” and seated himself closer than he should to his partner who actually did take the offered beer, but didn’t say a word. 

“Drink,” Danny said again, but Steve still didn’t move. “Okay, a demonstration for those mentally challenged among us,” he continued, and put the bottle of beer to his lips. “Now watch,” he said, voice echoing a wee bit into the bottle’s empty neck. 

Steve turned his head slowly as Danny wrapped his lips around the bottle’s opening. He could feel his partner’s gaze white-hot like a branding iron on the side of his face as he tipped the bottle back. Felt the bubbly liquid splash into his mouth, coating his tongue, heading for this throat. 

Felt Steve staring. 

Swallowed the mouthful of beer, moved the bottle away from his mouth, wiped his lips with the back of his other hand. Nutted up and turned to look at his partner. 

Who still looked shell-shocked. Only maybe for a different reason now. 

Danny’s face heated up. “That was a demonstration, not a preview,” he quipped and oh, Jesus Christ, him and his fucking _mouth_ , he needed to shut _up_. 

Steve swallowed hard and Danny could tell Steve’s eyes were on his lips, which he licked, of course he did, because now he was all of a sudden nervous. So he had to deflect, had to get them out of the moment, and said, “What happened to Chin wasn’t your fault and it’s all okay, so?” He shrugged. 

Steve looked away. 

Damn. 

They spent the next two hours silently going through the six-pack. Only thing was, by the time Danny stood up to leave, he had a _huge_ problem (if he did say so himself) and it was all he could do to keep his front side turned away from McGarrett as he made his way to the front door, set the alarm and left Steve still seated on the couch. 

Just…damn. 

Danny didn’t even make it out of Steve’s driveway before he had to unzip his pants, take his cock in hand and jerk off ‘til he came all over the Camaro’s steering wheel. He wondered if Steve was watching him, prayed to God he wasn’t, and five minutes later burned rubber to get the hell out of there. 

He had jerked off in his partner’s driveway. 

Jesus H. Christ. 

Head back in the goddamn sand. 

* * *

Mary’s kidnapping. 

Danny wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold his partner together. But for some reason, Steve listened to him. 

Danny supposed he should feel good about that. But it scared him. Nobody had ever really listened to him the way Steve did from the very first, and Danny wasn’t stupid, dammit, he noticed these things over the time the two had been partnered. He listened to Danny’s rants. He listened with his whole _body_ , sometimes, curving toward Danny like a giant question mark so obviously that Danny would move away only to find Steve somehow had gotten closer even if _he_ hadn’t moved. 

It was fucked up. It was _so_ fucked up, because Danny was just as scared for Mary Ann as Steve was, and the relief on Steve’s face when he gathered his sister into his arms, well, Danny felt that relief, too, but he felt something _more_ than that, and it took him a minute or two to identify what it was. 

Jealousy. 

_Jealousy_ . 

_What, you want to get kidnapped, too, so that when Steve rushes in like a knight in a shiny black helicopter to save you, you can get a long, close hug like that?_

Oh, shit. Danny realized…he realized he had it bad, way bad, way _really_ terribly _awfully_ bad. _Jealous_ of a _sister_? Because of a _hug_? 

He resisted the urge to do a literal facepalm, and waited until the whole thing had played out, until Steve had dropped his sister off at the airport, until the night was upon them to even think about it anymore. 

And with Steve orbiting him, flitting around him like Danny was the flame and Steve was the moth, out there on Steve’s lanai, it wasn’t hard to think about. He sensed the nervousness in his partner; Steve was like a cat on a hot tin roof. Never stopped moving, fidgeting more than Danny ever did until at last Danny stood up and got in the way of Steve’s thousandth pace across the deck. 

Steve screeched to a halt toe-to-toe with his partner. Danny looked up. Steve looked down. “Thank you,” Steve said, and the sincerity was almost too much. 

No. It _was_ too much. Because Danny, since he was a complete idiot with no sense of self-preservation, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his partner and _oh, God, yessssss_ felt Steve’s arms come around him, too. 

And they just stood there. Steve didn’t move. Danny didn’t move. 

Until at last they did, both backing away, scratching the backs of their necks, not making eye contact. 

“I’m just gonna,” Danny said and then risked a look at his partner who appeared so _vulnerable_ , so something Steve should _never_ be, that he went past arrhythmia and into complete shutdown for half a second as Steve’s eyes met his. 

“See you tomorrow,” was what Steve said, and so Danny took that as his cue to vacate. 

Strangely enough, it wasn’t his dick that was on fire that night as he drove home. 

It was his heart. 

Yeah. He was completely and totally fucked. 

Only his head didn’t go quite as far back into the sand that time. 

* * *

The little touches here, the brief looks there, all things Danny was able to deal with and maybe even enjoy a little bit until Rachel and Grace were carjacked and Steve was running around the jungle like fucking Rambo while Danny was threatening men in high places by leaving the imprint of his badge on their foreheads. 

He was so mad, so spitting fucking _mad_ , Stan doing the stupid thing he’d done, Danny now in possession of those goddamn tapes, watching as Stan and Rachel and Grace walked back into the too-big house like _they_ were the family. 

And they were. 

Leaving Danny standing there with nothing. 

Nothing. 

Nothing but his partner. 

His partner who suddenly took over things like he was in charge of even Danny’s _life,_ taking him back to his house, installing him in a beach chair out back, bringing him an ice-cold beer and sitting down next to him as the sun dipped low in the sky. 

“I’m glad you called me,” Steve said quietly, then took a sip of his beer. 

Danny turned and looked at him. Blinked. Watched as Steve slowly turned his head to meet his gaze. 

“I mean, I’m glad you knew you could, you know…” Steve was at a loss for words, it seemed, as his voice trailed off and his hand sort of waved the sentence away. 

Yeah, Danny _had_ called Steve on his way to the airport, because he’d needed to hear his voice. Needed to know some part of his life wasn’t all fucked up, needed to know Steve was still safe out there trying to find their witness and get her to the courtroom on time. 

He’d just plain needed Steve right there next to him, but couldn’t have him there, and so he’d settled for the next best thing. 

“You _do_ have tones, you know,” Steve offered, then gulped down half his Longboard. 

“Yeah, well,” Danny finally said as he looked back out at the ocean, “faces, tones. You get to know a guy after a while, I guess.” 

Get to know them so well you jerk off in the shower to the image of them dripping wet fresh from a swim or a shower, the best parts kept hidden by board shorts or a low-slung towel. 

“I guess,” Steve said. Then, after a couple more seconds, “You okay?” 

“No. Stan’s a fucking asshole and now I’m sitting on evidence of a dirty city planner.” 

“I’ve got a place I can hide those tapes for you. Hidden safe my dad had installed in the floor of his office.” 

Danny huffed out a laugh. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“You got ‘em with you?” 

Danny nodded, hiked his butt off the chair, reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple small cassettes. Steve held out his hand as Danny resettled in the chair. Danny reached out to drop the tapes into Steve’s upturned palm. Steve’s hand made to close around the tapes. 

But his fingers caught Danny’s hand right along with them. 

Danny started as it felt like a jolt of electricity ran up from their joined hands, up through the muscles of his arm, into his shoulder, straight up to his brain and straight down to his balls, which tightened as his dick twitched so hard it nearly made Danny gasp. 

He tried to swallow, but his throat had gone as dry as a bone. 

He stared at their hands. 

Steve wasn’t letting go. 

“I’ll keep them safe,” Steve said, and Danny was suddenly confused. Was Steve talking about the tapes? Grace, maybe, and Rachel? 

He looked up to find Steve was staring at their hands. Saw Steve’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, then looked up to catch Danny’s gaze. 

Steve’s thumb rubbed along the soft, sensitive skin of the inside of Danny’s wrist. Danny heard himself sigh, but then Steve jumped to his feet, nearly dropping his beer. His hand jerked away from Danny’s, closed around the tapes, and he all but ran into the house, leaving Danny sitting there with his arm still outstretched, fingers in the same position like they could still feel the ghost of Steve’s touch. 

As Danny slowly retracted his hand and took a long pull on his bottle of beer, he considered that maybe…just maybe…he wasn’t the _only_ one with a penchant for burying his head in the sand. 


	3. Deciding to Just Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny can't...and then he decides that he can.

Okay, so…the thing of it was that Danny pretty well had his head above sand now. Only thing, though, was any time he made any sort of move to get closer to his partner, well, Steve just sort of did that crab-like scuttle run thing sideways about a mile. So Danny had to back off, keep backing off, let it become Steve’s idea to start circling around him again like Danny was the chum and Steve was the Great White. Danny thought to himself how sad it was that he _wanted_ to be the chum in this case and hoped he didn’t later add a ‘p’ to the end of that word. 

Steve was a little nutso, Danny thought, always had, probably always would, and he was a control freak, hey, no great surprise there. 

But it was driving _Danny_ a little nutso these days, working side by side with the man, continuing to banter, argue, have conversations where Steve would reach out for him, touch him, keep circling, keep circling, like a wild animal who wanted to take but was afraid if he got touched, it’d hurt. 

Danny supposed he couldn’t blame the guy. That grocery list of reasons was still there, it wasn’t ever going to go anywhere. Starting with they were _work_ partners, and fraternization, well, those rules were there for a goddamn _reason_. Things go south, you can’t work with each other anymore, you just can’t. And Steve’s abandonment rate, astounding, so bad, and Danny couldn’t guarantee he’d be around this hunk of rock forever, because _Grace_. 

And the list ended somewhere around the fact that while he wasn’t really sure about Steve’s sexual orientation, Danny himself had never been in a relationship like _that_ with another guy, and to _want_ to enter into such a thing with I-Have-More-Issues-Than-the-American-Postage-Stamp Steve was lunacy in and of itself. 

So, yeah. 

Totally fucked up situation, the list wasn’t going to just magically not matter anymore, and so Danny decided to let Steve keep circling. Decided he would no longer put himself in the position of seeing Steve half-naked in the locker, would never move to hug the man again, wouldn’t put his outstretched hand anywhere near Steve’s so Steve could grab hold of it and send a bolt of lightning straight to Danny’s cock. 

His head was above the sand. He was facing facts. He wasn’t ignoring them, he was simply working within the boundaries of reality. 

So why did that make him feel like he’d buried his heart as far down as his head had once been? 

And then Matt. The gloriously fucked-up World of Family, it turned out, was not something only the McGarretts had a patent on. No, sir. No, right there you had a Williams, the patriarch being an upstanding former Fire Chief, the oldest brother being a cop, the three sisters with decent, respectable jobs. And Matt. Matt the whatever-the-fuck he’d turned into, all of it criminal. The little brother gone really, _really_ bad. 

That time around the table with Rachel, Grace, Matt and the new addition of Steve…Danny had soaked it right up, had all his favorite people _right fucking there_ and then Matt had to fuck it all up for him. So of course, Steve had _lied_ , he had _lied_ to the fucking _FBI_ for Danny, for Danny’s brother. And in the end, Danny had let Matt go. Just _leave_ on that goddamn plane because he couldn’t shoot his own brother. So Matt was gone. Possibly, probably, forever. 

Danny couldn’t go to Steve after that. He _couldn’t_. He ignored Steve’s calls, because right then it was _Danny_ who was vulnerable, and he knew that if Steve tried to comfort him they could wind up…well, at the very least, maybe kissing, and getting together in a time of grief, it would _haunt_ Danny, and it would haunt Steve, and that was no way to start anything they shouldn’t be starting anyway, and…his mind, circuitous thoughts, he found himself pulled up to the Edwards house, walking into Rachel’s arms and staying the night on the couch. 

In the morning he had to try to explain it to Grace. 

He had to try to explain it to his parents. His sisters. 

He hated himself for being the one to do it. Hated Matt even more for putting him in the position to begin with. 

And it wasn’t until the doorbell to the Edwards home rang, and the maid answered, and Danny looked up feeling like his entire being, inside and out, had been grated by the most coarse sand in existence, that Danny realized the one person he _hadn’t_ brought up to speed was his own partner. 

Steve looked at him from the entryway to the parlor. Looked at him with a look that told Danny he’d been right; it was a good thing he hadn’t gone directly to Steve’s last night, because that look _right there_ , that one Danny wouldn’t have been able to resist. 

Still couldn’t, apparently, because he let Steve prop him up on his way out to the car. He let Steve bundle him into his house, practically carry him up the steps. Let Steve put him in the twin bed with freshly laundered sheets in what used to be Steve’s room when he was a kid. 

“Get some sleep, Danno,” Steve said and Danny knew, he _knew_ in that moment if he reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand, Steve would stay. He would stay and maybe he would curl into Danny like he did all the time, only this time it’d be both of them lying pressed up against each other in a twin bed. 

Steve’s gaze lingered. 

Danny was tired, so tired, so drained, there was just nothing left. 

Nothing left. 

“Sleep,” Steve said so softly Danny barely heard it. And he knew Steve had his back. Knew as his eyelids fluttered closed, as he heard the sounds of Steve settling onto the floor, that Steve was staying without Danny even having to ask. 

He wanted to cry from the way his heart swelled in silent response. But he couldn’t because he’d used up all his tears on Matt. So instead he breathed out his partner’s name. 

“Right here, Danno,” Steve whispered, and Danny felt Steve’s hand on his thigh. 

Safe. 

Somehow, being with a man who had more weapons in his possession – and quite possibly on his person – than most small countries had in their entire arsenal, Danny felt _safe_. 

And he slept for twelve hours straight to prove it. 

* * *

Everything was sort of the same after that day, but sort of not. Eventually Danny dealt with Matt’s betrayal in his own way, but not by burying his head. And he resolved to somehow figure out how to get out of this neverending dance with Steve. Made all the easier when Steve, as they were headed out of HQ on a Friday evening with no pending cases, stopped Danny with a hand on his arm just as they reached their parking spaces. 

There, in between the truck and the Camaro, Steve asked, “You doin’ anything tomorrow, Danny?” 

“No, don’t have Grace this weekend. No plans at all, really. Why, you, uh…you’re not planning on invading some foreign legion or something in your spare time, are you?” He gave him ‘the smile’ – the one Danny reserved only for Grace and for Steve – and punched his arm lightly, and winked. 

Steve smiled brilliantly and Danny thought for a second he was blinded by it, _oh, so fucked_ , and then Steve said, “Good. I want to take you somewhere.” 

Well, as much as Danny thought maybe he should just say ‘yes’ and have done with it, this was Steve, after all, and Danny had _some_ self-preservation instincts, so he said, “Okay, maybe if you could be a little more specific so I don’t find myself, you know, I don’t know, strapped to the belly of a whale on some Navy diving mission thingy or something.” 

Steve made his confused face and Danny did _not_ think that was at _all_ endearing, but then Steve said, “I don’t know where you come up with this stuff, Danny. No…whales or…Navy or whatever. It’s a place my dad and I used to go.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, ducked his head and oh _God_ , Danny loved it when he did that, he looked like a younger Steve, pre-cares, pre- _life_. “Kinda special to me.” 

Danny resisted the urge to ask, “Me or the place?” and instead just nodded and said, “Yeah, okay, what kinda clothes?” 

“Hiking clothes!” Steve replied, goofy smile in place. “Pick you up at six-thirty?” 

“In the _morning_?” 

Steve looked suddenly like he was afraid Danny would say no, so Danny just shook his head, “All right, you big goof, Christ, you _do_ know weekends are for sleeping in, no, of _course_ you don’t, the goddamn Navy beat that common sense right the hell outta you, didn’t they?” 

But Steve looked so. Fucking. _Happy_. So Danny just flapped a hand at him, got in the Camaro, and made it halfway to his shithole apartment before realizing, “Oh, my _God_. McGarrett just asked me out on a date.” 

Huh. So maybe someone _else’s_ head was coming outta the sand a little bit. 

* * *

And then the broken arm, and when that happened, when he got Steve hauled up over the edge of the cliff, he wanted to hug him, was afraid of hurting him, so he did the only thing he could do. So overwhelmed, so goddamn _grateful_ that Steve hadn’t gone all the way down to his death, he said the words, and he said it with his hands. 

Then the hospital and the fish with the singing chef and the case, the case, God, what a fucked up case, and then the restaurant and the fireworks and Chin and Kono’s Auntie dying, and Sandrine and Kamekona and not once, not one time in all that, did Steve say Word One about what Danny had said, mimed, acted out there next to those damn petroglyphs. 

Not one word. 

So Danny thought maybe Steve had thought it was meant for Chin for coming to the rescue. Or maybe Steve had thought it was just a heat of the moment thing Danny didn’t mean _that_ way. Or maybe Steve hadn’t thought about it at _all_ , or maybe he had and it wasn’t what he wanted (in spite of all evidence Danny had gathered to the contrary), so Danny didn’t quite know what to make of it when, as Chin and Kono left to deal with the aftermath of Auntie’s death, as Kamekona actually left with _Sandrine_ , if you could believe that…Steve said to him, “Wanna head back to my place?” 

Well. If Steve was trying for avoidance, he was failing miserably. And Danny resolved, when he said, “Yeah, sure, okay,” that somehow tonight, in some way that he hadn’t quite figured out yet, he was going to let Steve know that he was all-in on this even if Steve didn’t want it in an all-in kind of way. 

Because Danny knew now. He knew what he wanted, _who_ he wanted, and he was a stubborn man, goddammit, facing an equally stubborn partner (with an arm in a cast, no less). And he was going to do it tonight. For his own sanity, he _had_ to make a move. 

He only hoped _he_ wasn’t in a cast the next morning as a result of a SEAL going apeshit on his sorry ass for trying to yank his head clear out of the sand and into the same space Danny’s had finally gotten to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, heck. These guys ran away with this a bit, so it'll now be four chapters rather than three. Assuming they let me off the hook after the next one...


	4. At the Same Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Steve's house, the spark is ignited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, so...here's the thing...Steve and Danny, well...they didn't want to tell the story the way I'd originally intended. So yes, this has been extended by yet another chapter. I am assured, however, that Chapter 5 really WILL be the end of it. *glares at the partners*

They'd arrived at the Hilton together in the Camaro, Steve's truck still back at the palace. Danny assumed, because hey, when was it ever any different, right? He assumed that McGarrett would want to drive, but was surprised when he and Steve actually went for the passenger side at the same time.

" _At the same time."_

" _At the same time? What, like, on the count of three?"_

Danny almost laughed out loud. The way they'd met, Jesus, what a comedy of errors they had been from the very first.

But it had become a comedy of errors that somehow, against every bit of logic known to man, _worked_.

So he pulled his keys out of his pocket, veered off his intended path and went instead to the driver's side, where he got in; Steve quickly following suit on the passenger side.

"So you're letting me drive my own car, here, should I get out my calendar? Mark it as a red-letter day or something?" Danny asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Sure, if you want," Steve said, but his voice didn't sound right.

Danny glanced at him, then back at the road. At Steve again. "Your arm hurting?"

"A little."

"Did you get painkillers at the ER?"

"Got a prescription."

"But didn't get it filled."

"Sure, Danny, right between fish with bullets embedded in them and airplane hangars, I got it filled. No, I didn't get it filled!"

"Here, I'm stopping off at a twenty-four hour drugstore or something, get that fi—"

"No."

Danny coasted to a stop at a red light. He looked for a good, long moment at his partner. "No because you want to pretend like you don't feel pain, or no because you have something better at home?"

Steve sighed. "No because I really just want us to go home."

The light turned green. Danny didn't hit the accelerator.

_I really just want us to go home._

Us.

Home.

Danny smiled as the driver of the car behind them honked his obnoxiously high-pitched horn. Danny looked back out the front windshield, smile still in place. He hit the gas and made it to McGarrett's within fifteen minutes.

Into the house, where Danny stopped as Steve locked the front door and set the alarm. "No beach chairs?" Danny asked.

"No. Don't want sand in my cast," Steve replied.

Danny nodded, made sense. He noted Steve twitching a little when he deposited his keys, his badge and his gun on the table near the front door. Noted Steve _kept_ twitching, fidgeting, playing with the sling holding his arm in place, wiggling the fingers that stuck out from the end of the cast.

"So what's on the menu for putting you out of your misery?" Danny asked, cheeky as hell.

Steve smiled. "How about a beer."

"Sounds good. You, install yourself on the couch in your standard butt groove. I will fetch the beers in honor of your little mishap with a cliff earlier today."

"Butt groove?" Steve repeated, but moved into the den anyway.

And Danny was very, very proud of himself because he'd managed to bring up the incident at the petroglyph site without it seeming forced. Damn, he was good.

He fetched the beers. He came into the living room. Stopped when he saw Steve standing in front of the couch staring down at it. "The hell are you doing? You do remember how to sit, don't you?"

"There aren't any butt grooves on this couch."

"Oh, for the love of..." Danny moved across the room, put the beers down on the end table, manhandled his partner so that his butt was facing the no-butt-groove couch, and made to give him a shove. So his hand went palm-flat against Steve's sternum, muscles bunching for the push, but then Steve seemed to come to life.

Steve's good arm moved in a blur, his hand trapping Danny's between heat he could feel through Steve's shirt, and his warm palm. He stared at their hands for a moment, recognized Steve's chest was moving faster, in time with faster breaths. Realized he could feel Steve's heartbeat. Closed his eyes because he'd come _so fucking close_ to losing this when 'this' didn't even exist yet, and—

"Danny?"

Danny opened his eyes. Felt they were wet. Didn't give a shit. Looked up to find Steve watching him with a guarded expression.

"At the petroglyphs this morning…" Steve's voice trailed off. He swallowed, looked away, but his hand tightened its hold around Danny's.

"I thought you were going to go over," Danny whispered. "I was so glad you hadn't, that you were getting out of there, I…" And then his own voice trailed off.

Just do it.

Eyes wide open.

Maybe the stupidest idea ever.

From the look on Steve's face, though…maybe not.

Danny raised his other hand, placed it palm-flat against Steve's right cheek. Felt and heard the hitch in Steve's breath as his eyelids fluttered closed. "I meant what I said out there," Danny breathed, so afraid of spooking the wild stallion who'd magically gone so still under his touch.

Steve's eyes opened and Danny couldn't read what he saw in their depths, their ever-changing hazel-blue depths he'd looked into _so_ many times, but never to see this. See Steve laid bare, raw, open. _There_ , right there with him.

Danny leaned in, pushed himself up on his tiptoes, Steve letting go of his hand so that he could wind them both up and around the back of his partner's neck. Sharing the same breath…lips so near to lips that one movement would have them touching…Steve's eyelids fluttered shut and _he_ was the one who closed the remaining miniscule distance.

Danny felt like he was flying, falling, bursting into pieces and becoming whole all at the same time. His cock sprang to life, but more importantly his _heart_ sprang to life, seeming to grow and grow until it enveloped him and Steve and whatever this was they'd started here. Now. With this kiss.

Steve, so uncharacteristically hesitant at first, his one good arm coming around Danny's back as far as it could, pulling him closer until nothing separated them. Nothing but mutual erections making themselves known, and once he felt Steve's, Danny thrust his tongue between Steve's lips, heard a small whimper in the back of Steve's throat in response, mapped his teeth, his tongue, every inch of Steve's mouth he could reach. Steve was willing. Steve was pliant. But he wasn't moving.

So Danny made to back out of it, maybe Steve just needed another minute or something, but the garbled groan-whine of protest and Steve's arm becoming like a steel vice around his back made him stay right where he was and then Steve's tongue became aware of where it could be right now if it so chose, and met Danny's halfway, dueling, tasting, and now tracing _Danny's_ teeth, and the insides of _Danny's_ cheeks. Sharing spit, breathing so hard and heavy through their noses, backing away and then like they couldn't bear to be apart now that they'd finally done this, crashing back together, mouths wide-open, tongues meeting before lips did.

Over and over, crashing, crashing, like the waves on the North Shore, blood pounding through Danny's veins and into his rock-hard cock. He heard himself growl, fingers pushing up into the hair on the back of Steve's head, crushing their faces together so neither could pull away. Steve responding, backing up an inch, pulling Danny down with him, landing with Danny cradled in his good arm, sprawled across his thighs, clinging to Steve for dear life because not once did their kiss stop. Not once did they pull away.

Danny, heady, everything around him spinning. Smelling the familiar Steve Smell, feeling the rasp of his night stubble rubbing the skin around Danny's lips raw. Soft skin, a thin sheen of sweat, taut neck muscles, shirt, shirt, too much clothing, too much hiding that skin, those tattoos, the chest hair, those nipples, he wanted, he wanted, he _wanted_.

And Steve gave.

Pulled away from him at last, lips red, swollen, whisker burn making the skin around his own lips pink, rubbed raw. Eyes wide, pupils filling the irises almost to capacity, panting, sliding the sling from his shoulder, pulling it off, tossing it away. Grimacing as he tried to get his shirt off, going still when Danny laid a hand on his forearm and whispered, "Let me."

The wild stallion holding himself still. Waiting. Trusting.

A moment Danny found profoundly reverent, removing his partner's shirt for the first time with the intent of making love to him.

He pulled it off over Steve's head and good arm at the same time.

_At the same time?_

_At the same time._

Then gently pulled it down Steve's busted arm, over the cast, off the ends of his fingers, tossing it to the floor.

Danny's eyes moved from the cast up to the tattoo. His right hand reached out and touched it. Steve gasped softly. Danny looked down at Steve's good hand, took it in his own, squeezed it, looked at Steve's face. Then looked back down, loosed his hold on Steve's hand, ran his fingers up Steve's forearm, up and up to the tattoo on that side. Traced it gently. Moved both hands along Steve's shoulders to his neck. Stopped. Rubbed his thumbs along the line of Steve's jaw.

Felt a boldness coming from his gut he didn't know he could have in a moment like this and said, "I want to make love to you."

Steve's eyes widened, he seemed to sag, maybe from relief, maybe from…Danny didn't know what, exactly, but when Steve's good hand closed around the one of Danny's still resting on his neck, and nodded, and smiled softly, smiled like, 'Here I am offering myself to you. Only for you, now, Danny,' well, Danny could do nothing but lean in give him a quick peck on the lips, and then move to stand up.

Steve made a strangled noise of protest, but Danny shook his head. "Bed," was all he said, and Steve got with the program nice and quick, got to his feet, but his arm hurt, Danny could see the fleeting pain across his face, the indecision, wasn't sure if one had anything to do with the other or if it was just Steve hurting. Physically. Maybe emotionally?

"You get yourself ibuprofen or something for the pain," Danny said to him. "You come upstairs when you're through."

Steve just looked at him.

Danny gave him a wry smile. "You're not saying too much here, so you coming upstairs will tell me you're all-in, babe. If you don't show, then I gather my things, and I go home." His voice was even. Calm. Applying no pressure.

Danny felt Steve needed the extra intel, though, like _he_ was the expert here when really the opposite was true, showing Steve what this meant to him by making sure _Steve_ was sure before it went any farther, as much as Danny's cock despearately wanted it to.

He could kick himself, because yeah, he _should've_ seen all this coming that day in Steve's garage, should've known he would wind up wanting the tall drink of water that became his partner. Should've _seen_ it.

But he hadn't.

And he'd buried his head in the sand for a long, long time because of it, breaking his own promise to himself.

But no more.

He turned and made it three steps up the staircase, when Steve called out like a kid who'd lost his mom in the grocery store, "Danny!"

Danny stopped. Turned around. Smiled. "I'll be upstairs." Then he forced himself to go all the way up.

He prayed with everything inside him that Steve would get some pills, and that he would then follow.

Danny had shown his hand.

Now it was time for Steve to show _his_.


	5. FINALLY!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep. They finally go there.

It had been ten minutes. 

Ten minutes during which Danny had taken a Steve-length shower, combed his hair back, wrapped a towel around his waist and gone to sit on the edge of Steve’s bed. 

He watched the digital clock on the bedside stand. But the number didn’t change. He felt like maybe Time had decided to stop altogether, maybe to give him and Steve the chance here, the chance to actually do this, start this off the right way. 

He heard a creak. He knew it was the creak of the fourth step up on the staircase. Danny’s muscles tensed. 

Another creak. That was the step right before the top. 

Danny closed his eyes. He rose to his feet, opened his eyes up and moved to stand at the end of the bed facing the door. Endless seconds passed until there, standing in the doorway, was Steve holding a bottle of water in his good hand, which he was also using to cradle his casted arm against his ribcage. 

Swallowing hard, Danny moved forward, took the bottle of water, placed it on the top of Steve’s dresser. He didn’t miss the fact that Steve was staring at all the skin Danny had exposed. 

“I’m all-in, Danny,” Steve said quietly, eyes moving from Danny’s neck, down his chest, down his stomach, stopping at the towel, then retracing the path back up until at last they were looking into Danny’s own eyes. “I always _have_ been.” 

That was all Danny needed to hear. He thought he could hear damn Disney birds singing when he reached up with his left hand, caught the back of Steve’s neck, and hauled him down for a kiss. His mouth was cool from the water he drank to no doubt get some kind of painkiller into his system. Danny knew he’d have to be gentle so as not to re-break Steve’s arm or have the guy howling in pain rather than pleasure. 

But that was just fine, because Danny fully intended this to be gentle. No, neither of them was a girl, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make love properly. Haphazard, filthy, animalistic fucking would come later, but tonight was special, or at least, Danny wanted to make it so. 

Danny was a much more emotional guy than most, he knew that, and he always had been from the time he was cognizant that feelings existed at all. All this pent-up longing, lusting after and needing his partner to be much more than a work partner welled up inside him and he gently pulled Steve back toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit it. 

Their lips never parted. 

Danny turned them slowly, shoved Steve gently back. Steve took the hint, seated himself on the bed, and looked up through his long lashes at Danny. And then Steve smiled, and Danny felt like the biggest sap on the face of the Earth when he smiled back. 

He stepped away, hooked his thumbs under the edge of the towel, and watched Steve’s eyes grow large and round as he deftly pulled the towel from his hips and let it fall to the floor. He stood there, just letting Steve have a chance to look at everything he hadn’t seen before. Danny’s own eyes moved over every inch of his partner, sitting there on the bed with his bare torso. He traced the lines of Steve’s tattoos, imagining what it would be like to follow his eyes with his tongue, and then decided you know what? He could _do_ that now. 

Danny moved forward, cock so hard it _hurt_ bobbing in front of him. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him back, so Steve hiked himself onto the bed all the way, coming to rest with his head against a couple pillows on top of each other. 

“Danny,” Steve whisper-gasped, reaching his good hand out, resting his cast on the bed. “I want to touch you.” 

So Danny obliged, crawling up to Steve on hands and knees, hiking his left leg over Steve’s waist, settling so their pelvises were perpendicular to each other. Steve’s hips bucked up and Danny heard his own moans mingle with those of this man he loved so fucking much it _hurt_ , and then he realized he’d said that out loud when Steve grabbed his hand, entwined their fingers and said, “I love you, too.” 

And Danny couldn’t do anything with that but lean down, touch his lips to Steve’s and give him the slowest, most thorough kiss he’d ever given another human being. Steve’s good hand touched everywhere Steve could reach, from the thick hair covering Danny’s chest, to his arm, to his side and his back. Steve slid that hand down Danny’s spine, kissing back eagerly, hips straining not to thrust upward, but Steve unable to stop them. 

Danny was making Steve lose control, and that was not only heady, it was downright electrifying. He pulled away from Steve’s mouth, saw a look of maybe disbelief, maybe wonder, maybe a whole lotta things on Steve’s face before licking down from the corner of his mouth to the hard line of his jaw. He followed the ridge back until he reached Steve’s ear, reveling in the gasp of pleasure when he sucked the lobe in between his lips, teeth gently biting. He released Steve’s ear, moved down his neck, nosed along the juncture of neck to shoulder, feeling every one of Steve’s shuddering breaths as much as he heard them. 

Kissing and licking his way along Steve’s collarbone to the hollow of his throat, Danny stopped, felt the steady pulse of Steve’s quickly-beating heart there just beneath the tender skin, then moved along to kiss his way to Steve’s right shoulder. He stopped, looked at the tattoo on Steve’s right bicep, lowered his mouth to it, and Steve whimpered as Danny’s tongue traced the lines, the colors, the length of it from top to bottom, leaving trails of saliva in his wake. 

He scooted back just a little, enough that he could lower his face to the spot right above Steve’s heart. Danny closed his eyes, kissed him there, left his mouth pressed into the skin, desperate for the reassurance that Steve was alive, that he hadn’t lost him over the cliff, that he had him right here in bed, _alive_ beneath him. Steve squirmed, hips grinding up into Danny’s, let out a choked sound that told Danny he _had_ to move on, for both their sakes. 

Because as much as Danny wanted to take his time, licking that stripe along Steve’s sternum, moving over to take Steve’s left nipple into his mouth, it was just about sending him over a figurative cliff himself. He wanted to do this _right_ , dammit, wanted Steve to know through touch how much he meant to Danny. 

Steve’s hand still roamed, touched, pinched, tweaking Danny’s nipples, making him gasp over and over until he moved far enough down along the trunk of Steve’s so-hard and yet touch-soft body, that Steve could no longer reach his chest. Down his mouth moved to Steve’s belly button, nosing into it. Down the line of dark hair that led to the waistband of Steve’s pants. 

“In me, Danny,” Steve breathed, arching off the bed as Danny’s fingers undid the button of his cargo pants. “ _Please_.” 

Oh, fucking _Christ_ , Danny could not resist that, who the hell would be able to? Danny pulled Steve’s pants and underwear down, quickly untied his shoes, pulled them, the socks and the rest of it off, shoved it all to the floor. Laid his hands on the tops of Steve’s feet, moved up his ankles, up his shins, crawling back up slowly with his knees on either side of Steve’s long, muscled legs. Hands continued up over Steve’s knees, up his thighs, stopped when they were pinning his hips to the mattress. 

He looked up, and was confronted with a face that could _only_ mean FUCK ME in Steve language. Danny nearly lost it right then and there. Fuck bedroom eyes and non-verbal cues; Steve took silent communication to a whole new level and suddenly Danny realized he always _had_. He felt his throat tighten at the realization, god _dam_ mit, this _man_. 

“Stuff’s in the drawer,” Steve breathed, voice pained, and oh, God, Danny stopped and just _looked_ at the length and breadth of Steve’s dark, dusky cock. At the precum bubbling from the tip of it, dripping down the head. It rested heavily against Steve’s abdomen and Danny had never had another man’s cock anywhere this close to his person, but was more fascinated that it was _Steve’s_ than that it was a _cock_. 

Smooth, huge, and uncut. Definitely not something Danny had ever seen up close. It was stretched out so far he could clearly see the entire purplish head, and Steve’s furred sac was tight beneath a shaft that had to have been at _least_ ten inches long and holy mother of _God_ , did Steve _have_ to be an overachiever in _all_ things? 

Secretly, he hoped his own impressive eight inches (for a guy who stood five-foot-five) would be enough to satisfy someone like this _god_ spread out beneath him. Spread out _for_ him. 

“Dannnnyyyyy,” Steve whined – actually _whined_ – good hand scrabbling to touch, even as Danny leaned to the right and opened the bedside table’s single drawer. Organized, as Steve was with all things, the three-inch tube of lube and the small box of condoms was easy to grab. As was, apparently, Danny’s left butt cheek, which Steve had a _very_ firm grasp of right now. 

“I want to do everything with you,” Danny said, sliding the drawer closed as Steve stilled to listen. “But for now, can I…?” He held up the lube and condoms. Watched as Steve bit his lips, arched upward, cock twitching. 

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, “yes, please, Danny, please.” 

So he dropped the box of condoms on the bed, eyes never leaving Steve’s as he twisted the cap off the lube. He let some dribble onto his right index and middle fingers, got the cap halfway back on, dropped the lube next to the condoms. Watched in complete awe as Steve’s knees came up. Danny scooted back. Steve lifted his legs up and around Danny’s body, settled the soles of his feet on the mattress. He reached out with his good hand. Danny caught it with his left. 

And the fingers of Danny’s right hand touched Steve’s puckered hole. In that instant, Steve’s hand nearly broke Danny’s, he grabbed it so hard, so fast, thrust his hips up, angled them so Danny had easy access, and Danny pushed a finger slowly inside, lube slicking the way, Steve’s hole eagerly accepting the advance. 

Steve moaned, Danny drinking in the sound, the continued hitching of his partner’s breath, the high-pitched whine when he added his middle finger to the first inside Steve’s tight hole, moving in as far as his fingers would go, pulling back out slowly. Moved in again, so slowly, scissoring his fingers deep inside Steve’s body. Cherished every noise he’d never heard from Steve before with every move, Steve bearing down, taking the third finger Danny added and honest-to-God _mewling_ when Danny spread them and found that golden spot he’d heard so much about but had no idea himself how it felt. 

But he knew he’d hit it with Steve when his hips jerked so hard Danny’s fingers slid free of his ass, and Danny knew it was the time, that neither of them were going to last much longer. Sweat covering both their bodies, a growling sound low in Steve’s throat that turned into a moan when Danny ripped a packet away from the rest of the condoms, threw the box and everything else to the floor and used his teeth to open the packet. 

He pulled the condom free, tossed the wrapper aside and let out a gut-deep sound he was sure he’d later deny having made as he rolled the damn thing over his cock from head to base. He made sure it was snug, that none of his hairs were being pulled, moving slowly on purpose to make this last, make this first time mean more than comfort or blowing off steam or any one of a million things any normal man would happily later claim it to be. 

But neither he nor Steve were just any man – especially not normal ones – and he thought he saw that recognized in Steve’s eyes as he lifted Steve’s legs, knees over Danny’s shoulders, and scooted up until the head of his cock was aligned with Steve’s puckered, lube-slick hole. 

He swallowed, looked down, watched Steve’s ass squirm in anticipation, and pressed forward. Danny’s eyes rolled back in his head, eyelids fluttering, as he threw his head back and hissed at the feel of his cockhead sliding past Steve’s sphincter, felt Steve’s ass clench around him, heard Steve let out a sound he knew _Steve_ would later deny making until he was blue in the face. 

Danny forced himself to open his eyes and look down at their union. He pressed in further, inch by inch, Steve gasping, his good hand leaving Danny’s and clenching at the duvet and sheet beneath them reflexively. In and in and in until balls rested against skin; until he was completely and totally _inside_ the body of Steve McGarrett. 

He stopped for a handful of seconds, savoring the tight heat, the relentless fluttering of Steve’s tight channel, the way Steve’s chest was heaving in time with his own. Then he brought Steve’s legs down until his feet were once again resting on the bed, knees still parted wide. Danny leaned down, Steve’s hips rolling up with him. Leaned down and down until he was curved over Steve, pulling Steve’s head up and tasting the startled moan that rolled up Steve’s throat and out along his lips. 

He kept kissing, kept kissing, heard himself, heard Steve, all those little sounds, the strange symphony comprised of the sound of his cock pulling slowly out of Steve until only the head remained inside, and the plethora of heretofore unheard whimpers, gasps and groans as Steve’s good arm moved up and around Danny’s back and pulled their chests flush with each other. 

Danny braced his elbows either side of Steve’s shoulders, pulled out of the kiss so he could watch the face he’d grown to love way too much to be healthy, far too much to ever care if it _wasn’t_ and so _very_ much that he knew in this moment he would die for Steve _not_ because he was his cop partner, but because of _love_. 

Their eyes held one another’s except when they couldn’t handle the sensations. Danny pressed back inside, God, he felt like he was going to _explode_ , but he wanted it to _last_ and he wanted to feel Steve lose it completely and he wanted to do it all over again even though their first time wasn’t yet complete and it was all he could do not to ram too hard into his partner and jolt that busted arm, but he managed a slow re-entry, pulled back out at the same pace. In all the way. Pull back out. 

Slow, slow, Steve’s sounds becoming words, at first intelligible, mixing _Danny_ with _yes_ and _fuck_ and _God_ and _love you_ and that made Danny’s hips snap forward and then the words became sounds again that were _supposed_ to be words, but were all mixed up, and Danny found that he himself could no longer breathe right, form words, form coherent thoughts, the animal inside taking over. Pumping forward, hard, harder, nudging Steve up the bed, hearing Steve’s babble urging him faster, hard, deeper, and Danny moved, he moved so fast, went from elbows to hands, arms straining to push himself up over Steve’s chest, sweat dripping into Steve’s face, neck, hips snapping forward, Steve lifting his feet into the air, angling himself up as much as he could to get it deeper, take Danny in as far as he could. 

Danny shifted as he fought to keep himself above Steve, away from his arm, moved a slightly different way and hit Steve’s prostate, which sent Steve into manic overdrive, jerking his hips up to meet every one of Danny’s thrusts in, crying out, good hand moving up to clutch at the back of Danny’s head, fingers winding through his hair and just holding _on_ as Danny pounded into him so hard the bed hit the wall behind it every single time. 

He didn’t know where one of their voices started and the other ended. Didn’t know what felt better, Steve’s hand gripping his hair painfully or his cock as he fought so hard not to let himself come. Didn’t know if he could take much more of the tight, clenching, jerking heat of Steve’s ass, didn’t know if his arms would continue holding him up. Didn’t know when he’d ever wanted something more, needed something more. 

“Steve!” Danny shouted as he felt it hit, balls tightening, entire body on fire head to toe, the involuntary thrusting of hips he could no longer control, cock swelling, Steve yelling his name in response, letting go of Danny’s head and closing his fist around his own cock. Danny lost track of everything but the sensations of each spasm that released his come, Steve milking it out of him as something warm splashed onto Danny’s chest and stomach. 

Steve went completely rigid, head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyelids closed and Danny thought he’d never _ever_ seen a sight that perfect, that beautiful, as his partner came without a sound. He collapsed and half-rolled to Steve’s right side, pinning his arm all the way down to where he still had his own cock in hand, sliding out of Steve easily as he began to soften in the aftermath of his orgasm. 

A breath of air whooshed from Steve’s lungs as he started breathing again, panting, trying desperately to get oxygen into his body, hand releasing his cock, sliding out from under Danny’s sweat-slick body, moving Danny’s head into the crook of his arm, pulling him closer, closer, until Steve’s lips captured Danny’s in a heated kiss that was _thank you_ and _holy fuck_ and _God, I love you_ screaming into every pore of Danny’s body. 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed when Steve finally lost the last bit of his energy, head flopping back on the pillow, but Danny’s head still held to his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, voice belying that he’d just spent some time abusing it as Danny had pounded into him. 

The only sound was their breaths synching, as though two truly had become one in that bed. In and out, in and out, and Danny’s hand moved over Steve’s left pec to feel his heart beating solid, steady, in time with Danny’s own. 

At last Danny felt the disgustingness of the filled condom cradling his ever-softening cock and had to pull away from Steve, get the thing off and toss it in the bedside wastebasket. Steve’s hand never totally left his body, and Danny wondered if this new tactile Steve was something that would always be in place now that they’d crossed the line, gone all-out, all-in and probably committed the worst mistake they could ever have made by giving in to it. 

But in this very moment, Danny didn’t care a whit for whether it was a screw-up or whether it was precisely the right decision to have made. Didn’t care, because Steve pulled him up so he could rest his lips against Danny’s forehead, and whispered, “I love you, Danny,” and that made whatever they would face as a result completely and totally bearable, worthwhile, and goddamn well worth fighting for. 

“I love you too, babe,” Danny whispered back, lifting his head just enough to place a soft kiss on Steve’s lips. Before he got his head laid back down on Steve’s shoulder, he could tell from the slower pacing of Steve’s breaths that he’d already fallen asleep. And so Danny settled in to do the same…and to dream about what would happen when they awoke. 

Maybe they would make love on Steve’s beach. 

After everything they’d been through, that was the only way, after all, that Danny would ever accept sand anywhere near _his_ head again: in the arms of his best friend, his partner, and his lover. 

Head on _top_ of the sand…not buried _in_ it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving me kudos. They are very much appreciated! I do hope I did them justice!


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